don't cheer for me the "artist" appreciate me the person

everybody makes art or chooses not to do art for their own reasons. my friend took me out for coffee and told me to never stop doing art and to nevver stop being me. I appreciated his positive compliment. I've been thinking long and hard about myself as an artist. And I wish people cheered for me as "me" not the label "artist", because everyone is an artist. and it doesn't make sense to me how you can say you have been an artist for "x" amount of years. it is what you are. one artist can paint 1,000,000,000 paintings and another artist can only work on 2. I only know who I am and I define what I become. I truly believe for whatever I do as a curator, as long as there is still an opprotunity for people to create and display art and I somehow was at one point doing artshows for that particular person and now that person is doing artshows for the same reason to help other artists show their work and inspire others and to watch another face smile. Then I think a part of me will be apart of the continuation of something I believe to love.

Childhood friends

Whenever I read posts from old friends,
I hear their voice I remember when we were little kids.
Is it the personality I can relate to?
When we hang out every once in a blue moon,
I recognize a part of you that has never changed.
So much missing right now...
Better to miss than to grow tired, I guess.
We can never go back to what we once were.
as time fades away...
we become legends of our time.

Nobody gives a fuck about a mans feelings.

Is something my dad told me, once.
To care about feelings, not good.
Lost my innocence, reprogram my mind.
Look at love in the face. Look at love fade like a fog.
One night my brother let the cat out,
and he came back dying. "I did it to myself! I did it to myself!"
I beat myself too hard because I can't afford to cure him.
I feel every ounce of guilt when he coughs in the night.
I'm too busy to be sad. At work, I said "he's going to die anyway" with a frown shunned
away from the eyes of a nobody. I love my cat. I am angry at other people. who probably
remind me of myself. I don't know what to do but wait for death.
I want to do something, but I can't. Before my cousin emailed me and wrote to me. I havn't
spoke to him in five years. Part of his letter he told me cats themselves would probably
be better off living free in nature, this human-constructed society that
we live in wasn't made for them and they just stay confused and dependent. [confused.
a part of me, like a part of my life, like a part of this poem, like part of my cat.
keeps on going until
it
dies.
maybe that is the moral of the story. because if it is, I can certainly die happy.

opposite actuality

Do you ever come to feel that some things in life are not what they seem to portray to be? Like for example: Propaganda. I've been really thinking a lot about what truth means. To the point where it doesn't make any sense and confuses me. And then I would try to have some deep conversation with friends who I feel don't even know what they want/to share or reveal about themselves. which confuses me, then I feel like i'm being glared at like as if it is my fault that I don't know what they're talking about. I guess what really matters is getting a point across to someone. That is the main key. I don't think being or "acting" super intelligent is supposed to get you anywhere. Being intelligent only works when you know how to use intelligence to become dilligent and productive. I have so much more to say but my mind is constantly changing... my thoughts are too explicit for the internet. everchanging. maybe you should meet me over some lunch and entertain each other over how things aren't what they seem. this subject actually reminds me of this poem.

Words never structured the same ever again

The things which were ever so perfect,
were the things that never happened. Unwritten.
Am I, I, or, I am anything really worth thinking. ?
The thought of something vs. actually having
in a time when it grew inside a brain.

Didn't have to read a book to know that

driving as far as you can,
until you have anymore gas,
I finally know how that feels like.
And the thought I have that makes me giggle,
whenever I think of you.
It is the little things that make the big worries
go away.
Beliving in something so much, nothing matters.
That's what I call happiness.
I control myself.
And that's all.

And what's what I mean by when I say "nothing matters"

I saw a falling star on the way home from work. And immediately I made a wish without giving any thought. It was to be a good person. Sometimes in life, no matter how much I think I have done, with nothing but good intentions, somebody isn't going to like me. And sometimes, I wonder why. I could only reflect upon myself to ask such questions, and I assume things, and I become my own worst enemy. Sometimes I forget I over analyze trivial thinking. It feels good to say "I feel great". It feels good to have a good meal and sleep, to have somebody like me. I just want to be good to the people I feel who are good to me and for the ones who are not, I'll just smile anyway. Because in the end, when we are all old and grey, nothing is going to matter what people think or say about us.